What's Your Story?
by Pleonastica
Summary: A group of dark-themed short stories whose aim is to form a fiction-based campaign against bullying. Set in an alternative universe, the stories will explore different bullying scenarios for the heroes of the series. Rated M for dark adult themes, including language and suicide. Character tags are set for the main antagonists, or the bullies, of the school.


**A/N:** Now, I've looked on people's profiles from Fanfiction, as well as Tumblr and other social media. On these profiles, I couldn't help but notice a sort of "anti-bullying campaign." They took a list of people with problems—who I assume to be mainly teenagers, although there are a few who aren't—and depicted briefly their background story. What shocked me was that these brief descriptions could actually be true to some people, so I decided I wanted to contribute to the anti-bullying campaign as well.

In the following chapters, you will find short stories of people with the same problems those in the list have. The chapters will take place in an alternative universe, using Rick Riordan's characters from _Percy Jackson and the Olympians_ and _The Heroes of Olympus_. It is my sincere hope that by using these characters, the story will have a more profound impact on my readers and will attempt to prevent bullying. Please note that some of these stories, although separate and intertwined, will not have happy endings. They are tragedies meant to send a message.

The campaign list is here:

"That boy you punched in the hall today? Committed suicide a few minutes ago.  
>That girl you called a slut today? She's a virgin.<br>The boy you called lame? He has to work every night to support his family.  
>That girl you pushed down the stairs the other day? She's already being abused at home.<br>That girl you called fat? She's starving herself.  
>The old man you made fun of cause of his ugly scars? He fought for our country.<br>The boy you made fun of for crying? His mother is dying.  
>You think you know them. Guess what? You don't!<br>Re-post if you are against bullying. I bet 99% of you won't, but re-post this if you are the 1% with a heart."

I hope that anyone who reads this will open their eyes to the world of bullying and do what they can to stop it. Bullying is a real thing that happens, and I hope that whoever is strong enough to find it in their hearts to prevent it will do so.

**Disclaimer:** _Percy Jackson _&_ the Olympians_ does not belong to me as the series and the sequel series _The Heroes of Olympus_ rightfully belong to Rick Riordan.

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><p><strong>Leo the Lame<strong>

_"__I'm the lamest duck there could be."  
><em>- George C. Wallace

"I need you to close up again tonight," my manager said to me. "I'll be leaving now, but I trust you can do it?"

I nodded to him from the aisle where I was kneeling down, taking stock of what was present. With clipboard in hand, I said, "Sure thing, Mr. Hermes." I resumed what I was doing and heard the familiar jingle of bells as the door opened and closed in the distance, signaling my manager's departure from the store. I sighed, knowing that I had to do what I needed to in order to keep my job.

Mr. Hermes was a good man and he treated me well, but sometimes I would resent his decisions—like when he made me close, for instance. Otherwise, he was decent: he paid me well and he never showed any signs of wanting to terminate my employment. I suppose I owe my gratitude to him since no one else wanted to hire me.

I worked at a minor shipping company down the block from my high school in New York City. Business was rough because we were always competing with UPS or FedEx—y'know, the major shipping corporations. Regardless, even without one of their branches close to our store, we would always just barely be making enough money to pay for this month's rent. This of course stressed my manager, telling me that I need to work as hard as I could so we could both have jobs.

I couldn't drive yet, so I didn't get the driving position. My co-workers, twins by the names of Connor and Travis Stoll, were the ones who drove. Meanwhile, I had the "important" job, as Mr. Hermes put it, because I ran the cash register and took stock of everything. However, the Stoll twins had the day off today so I was alone. I hated being alone. I wasn't _scared_; I just didn't like not having anyone to talk to. It felt like I was always alone.

I pulled myself from my thoughts and continued working, sighing. I had so much homework to do tonight, I'm not even sure how I was going to be able do it. My grades are suffering because of my job, but I need to have it, lest my family and I lose our house. I couldn't have that happen. A Valdez always puts their family before themselves.

I raked my hand through my curly brown hair and sighed again, thinking of what was needed to be done other than the task at hand, which was work. When I got home, I needed to take a shower, finish my pre-calculus work, finish my United States history outline, and then sleep. I dreaded both math and the outlines. They were always the most time-consuming, what with my ADHD and all.

I suppose there was no use in complaining, however. Just because I was close to a D in pre-calculus doesn't mean I couldn't do it. I want to go to a good college when I graduate, but have a C- on my report card doesn't look too good on my transcripts. I'll just have to suck it up, I guess. I'm a junior in high school and it's the beginning of the second semester, so I should have another year to make up for the bad grades, although the C- constantly looming over my head didn't help any.

I sighed again for what must have been the thousandth time. Life isn't fair, but then again life was never fair. My mother and worked in a car garage business they owned. I refused to work there because I didn't want to stretch the family business's capital any further by paying me. We were already struggling with finances. My father, who doesn't live with us and pays child support every month, even had to have a second job as a janitor just so he could pay and we could make the rent. No matter where we went, it seemed that no one wanted to hire a couple of nobody Hispanics or my father. Luckily, the custodial and shipping business accepted the Valdezes.

Life was hard. I accepted that fact about two years ago, at the beginning of freshman year. That was when I started working here—age fifteen. It dawned on me one day that I would never _not_ be in a position of struggle. Sure, it was tiresome, but I finally acquiesced to the idea of helplessness. There was nothing I could do to change it until I graduated and went to college; unfortunately, the massive debts I'll acquire for attending will be deleterious to the overall family's fortune—that is, whatever fortune we had. I could only hope that by going to college, my life, and therefore my parent's lives as well, would improve and everyone could finally relax. That was all a dream, of course. No one knew where the future was headed.

Once I finally finished taking stock of all our supplies, I got up from my kneeling position and walked over to the back where a door with a sign that read "Authorized Personnel Only" existed. I entered and placed the clipboard that was in my hand onto a hook on the wall. The room was supposed to be an office but it was more like a closet, if you asked me. It was quaintly small, but it had a dilapidated office chair and a rotting wood desk. The off-white peeling paint on the walls were poignantly melancholic and the floorboards underneath my feet creaked with moans of despair; it was almost as if the room were crying, begging to be destroyed.

I took the spare keys from Mr. Hermes' desk drawer and gently closed the drawer in fear of it breaking on me. The damn thing reminded him of a coffin, laying whatever Mr. Hermes put in it to rest and shutting out the light. The whole building was a depressing atmosphere, really, but it was where I worked. I practically ignored the feeling of ennui the business emitted.

Looking at the disenchanted clock on the wall, I saw that it read 11:57 at night. Time to close.

Why we stayed open so late was beyond me. We rarely got a customer past ten o'clock because everyone assumed we were closed, even if the lights were on or the dying neon sign outside said, "Open." I sighed again, feeling exhausted and let my shoulders slump. I lazily walked out of the office, shut off the light and made my way to the front of the store. With a soft smile, I looked around at the place where I've worked for almost three years. It felt cozy, if I'm being honest with myself. Almost like a second home. Whether I was with the Stoll twins, Mr. Hermes, or alone, I would always feel safe here.

After one final glance-over of the store to make sure everything was clean and neat, I approached the cash register to make sure it was locked. Finally, as I approached the door, I looked at my reflection in the glass window leading to the dark metropolis that awaited me outside. _Jeez_, I looked as exhausted as I felt. My lips laid in a partial, permanent frown, erasing the mischievous smile that my parents used to tell me existed when I was younger. My eyes had bags underneath them, casting shadows where none should be on a seventeen-year-old. Of course, to make it worse, my curly hair was disheveled. I looked like a mess, but I didn't care. I was too tired to care.

I turned off the lights in the store and put my jacket on, taking note of the snow outside. Leaving the building, I locked the door from the outside and began walking.

…

Twenty minutes later, I arrived at my shoddy apartment. Most people would have found walking in the snow with such a light jacket as mine to be insane and they would complain that they were freezing. Fortunately for me—especially since new clothes are _not_ on my list of expenses—I seem to have a natural heater built into my body, like a fancy machine. My parents worried about it at first but I waved them off, saying that I didn't need something heavier, and ultimately more expensive. Even during the summer, I wore modest clothing. I didn't mind it. I was comfortable.

I walked up the stairs that led to my unit and took out my keys, avoiding the store keys that were in the same pocket. Unlocking the door, I trudged inside, took off my shoes wet and snow-filled shoes and shut the door. The house smelled like fresh-baked cookies, which was weird since no one in my family ever baked. It was a relaxing smell.

"Hey Leo!" the familiar voice of my mother called out to me. "How did your day go?"

I looked up to see a woman with long, curly hair that was usually tied back in a knot under a bandana. Esperanza Valdez looked pretty tired herself—but she still had a warm smile on her face that filled me with hope and joy every time I saw it.

"It was long," I started, "but great. I had fun." I didn't want to tell her about what happened at school today. It was only Tuesday, meaning I had to go back to school three more days and live through it. In reality, nothing peculiar happened today that wasn't part of the norm: the kids ignored me as usual, labeling me as "weird" or "lame." I didn't want to talk about it, though.

"_Mijo_, I know when you're lying." She had a concerned look on her face as her eyebrows shot up with worry. Man, did she know how to read through me. "I don't like when you lie to me. What's wrong?"

I guess I wasn't able to hide my unhappiness as well as I wanted to, but I still didn't want to talk about it. "Nothing," I faked a chuckle. "I promise." I put on an artificial smile, even though I knew she could tell I was lying. I hated lying to my mom, but I feel like I've put enough of a burden on her just for being born; she didn't need more things to worry about.

"Alright," she said, dropping the subject. She still had that concerned look plastered to her face. She walked to the kitchen—or rather, what _we_ called the kitchen since the only thing separating our living room from it was a piece of duct tape on the floor—and picked up a plate of cookies, setting it down on the tiny, round dining table. "Have a cookie. I made them just for you!" She put on that sweet smile again and I was filled with both happiness and guilt for lying.

I sat down on the wooden chair that groaned as I pulled it out. Grabbing a cookie and putting it to my mouth, I said, "Thanks."

She kissed my forehead and went to the room that we shared. We had separate mattresses, of course, but they were close together because the room was too small to put them anywhere else. I nibbled on the cookie and savored the taste as it washed over my tongue in delectable deliciousness.

Maybe life wasn't so bad after all.

…

The alarm on my flip phone rang, waking me up and notifying me that it was time to get up for school. I opened my phone and shut off the alarm, reading 6:15 in the morning. School starts at 7:45, so every day I need to be there by at least 7:30—as much as I hated it.

I took off the covers on my bed, went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth, tried somewhat to fix my hair, and then went to go change into my outfit for the day. It was a plain orange t-shirt and some jeans. Afterward, I went to my kitchen and prepared cereal—maybe that's why I was so skinny, actually. We didn't want to spend any money on the more expensive protein such as steak or eggs, so I would always eat things like cereal that didn't make me fat but it didn't build up my muscles, either.

While I was eating cereal on our meager dinner table, I also took out my United States History textbook and continued the outline I had started the night before. I only had one section left, which roughly broke down into three subsections and four parts to each of those subsections, so it wasn't _too_ much. I should be able to finish it before fourth period, which was when I had the class. We were on the Progressive Era in the United States, so we were learning about flappers, bootleggers, the Eighteenth Amendment, and President Wilson. Yuck. I _hate_ history. It's so boring.

I guess history was better than pre-calculus, however. I spent a good thirty minutes last night reading my textbook on how to find the limit of x as it approaches whatever. Apparently, my teacher taught us how to find limits all wrong, so when I tried doing the examples in the book, my answers were off. Thanks, Mr. Dionysus. I don't know why he's even teaching math since all he does is go out and party after school. I'm surprised his liver hasn't failed him after all the drinking he claims to do.

I got to the third subsection of the outline when I noticed the clock read 7:05. Sighing once more, I packed up my things into my black backpack, put on my light jacket, and walked out of my apartment, locking the door behind me.

By the time I arrived to my school, it was 7:27. I _really_ didn't want to go back into the hell known as Yancy High School. It was a public school, so I was grateful that I could even get an education—apparently, back in the old days, public schools didn't even exist! Can you believe that?—but I still didn't like that fact that being ostracized was a part of my daily routine. I mean, I could talk to people, but they didn't like talking to me. I was the "weird" kid who didn't like to conform or who didn't know anything about social customs. Go figure.

Regardless of my previous dispositions, I trudged on in past the glass doors that admitted students into the school's walls. I ended up walking toward my locker when one of the most beautiful girls in the school walked past me with a couple of her friends. Her name was Calypso—such an exotic name that I knew I would _never_ forget. Her caramel-colored hair was braided in an intricate way that accentuated her facial features. Whenever I got close to her, she would always smell of cinnamon, one of my favorite scents. And today, she wore a simple white dress that flowed easily as she walked.

Of course, she was one of the _popular_ girls of the schools, so I doubted I had a chance with her. She would always travel with her best friends—who were also popular—Piper McLean, Hazel Lavesque, and Annabeth Chase. Although Calypso wasn't the leader of their cheerleading clique, as Annabeth was the _de facto_ leader, she was the one who stood out the most to me. I would always notice her in the halls. Calypso, other than Hazel, was the nicest of the troupe, so it made sense that I would fall for her. I had eyes on her since day one of high school.

It didn't help that while I was looking at Calypso—who was, with her friends, briefly looking back at me—I tripped and almost fell. They giggled at me, much to my chagrin, and Calypso had a sympathetic smile on her face as she and her posse walked away. My face heated up out of embarrassment when that happened, so I just looked away and pretended it didn't happen. It was normal to be laughed at, even if it hurt. I just continued to my locker.

After exchanging with my locker the materials required for my first and second periods, I went to my first period classroom so I could finish up my homework. I didn't go to sleep last night until 1:30, so I found out that I was feeling really tired as I sat down at my usual desk. The teacher, Mrs. Dodds, angrily greeted me and continued writing her evil lecture for Advanced Placement Biology. I don't know why I signed up for this class, with my workload and all, but I actually enjoy it.

I focused on my history homework when I took it out of my backpack. The bell rang a few minutes later, and a conglomeration of students began to pour in the classroom as if the doorway were a funnel that limited their flow. One of the popular kids, who was also one of the smartest in the junior class, came up to me. Jason Grace, the middle linebacker for the football team, leaned in toward me at my desk.

"What you got there, Leo?" His voice sounded like it contained genuine interest. I'm used to being approached by people, but every time I try to respond, I sound like an idiot. I'm just socially awkward, I suppose.

"Er, just my totally awesome homework," I said, a little sarcasm added.

Jason raised an eyebrow at the word "awesome" but he didn't say anything for a little bit. Then he figured out what he wanted to say. "Cool. What class?" I could tell he was trying to make conversation, which was nice of him, but ever since I started working, I've had little time to really interact socially with others, outside of talking to customers. I was scared to reply in fear of saying the wrong thing or being looked at funny.

"US History. It's about the Progressive Era, and it's _so_ interesting," I said with more sarcasm. "I mean, who doesn't like learning about how alcohol was made illegal in for a decade?" I laughed awkwardly, but I hoped that little bit was satisfactory.

"That's not cool, that's weird," Jason said bluntly. It hurt to hear that, especially to hear it from someone who was deemed as intelligent by the rest of the school. Shouldn't he be into all that smart people stuff? "Besides, what's so interesting about the Progressives?"

"It was sarcasm," I retorted. Apparently I didn't put enough sarcasm into it as much as I thought I did. "I don't actually care."

"Oh," Jason said. I would've thought that _he_ of all people would understand. I guess I was wrong. "Well you should say that next time, weirdo." He pat my back a little harder than I would've found acceptable, but I guess his football strength caused him to misjudge your strength. I couldn't blame him though—he _was_ popular, after all, so blaming him would be like blaming the Pope. It's just something you don't do, in my high school anyway.

He walked away and I muttered under my breath, "Sorry." I don't think he heard me. The bell rang, signaling the students to sit down at their respective desks and to take out their journals. I wanted to continue working on my history, but Mrs. Dodds would've screamed at me for doing other work in her class. I'll just have to do it during pre-calculus and miss more of the lesson since Mr. Dionysus doesn't care whether I work on something else.

"Alright class," Mrs. Dodds hissed, "Who can tell me what animals fall under phylum Platyhelminthes?"

…

The school day was over. I was finally able to leave the hell that is known as Yancy High. Unfortunately, as I was leaving the campus, Calypso and her friends came up to me. I hope they weren't here to bother me.

"Hey, Leo!" Calypso said brightly, a gentle smile stretched on her face. She was so beautiful. Her white dress billowed in the wind, making her seem like an angel rather than a human. She looked expectantly at me with her dark, almond-shaped eyes when I realized that I was staring at her and she was waiting for me to reply. Piper and Hazel giggled in the background.

"Uh, h-hey, Calypso," I said rather awkwardly after a few seconds' pause. I scratched the back of my head nervously. A playful smile danced on her lips, and I turned all of my focus toward her.

"How was your day?" She looked at me with friendly eyes, but I felt nervous keeping eye contact with her. I looked away.

"It was good," I lied. No day at Yancy was ever a good day. "How was yours?" I looked at Piper, Hazel, and Annabeth rather than Calypso. I looked at a potted plant rather than Calypso. I looked at the sidewalk rather than Calypso. Just looking at her made me so nervous. I'm not even sure why.

"It went great! Thanks for asking," she smiled. I loved how bubbly her voice sounded. It reminded me of sweets—her voice was sweet, and I could never get enough of it. "Listen. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out some time?"

I raised an eyebrow in surprise. Was she asking me out? Aren't I supposed to do that? But… Why would she ask me out in the first place? Wasn't she like, super popular or something? I turned around to make sure no one was behind me, and to my surprise, no one else was there. I looked at her and pointed at myself. "You mean me?"

She laughed. "Yes, Leo. You."

I frowned. I was confused that she would approach me, especially in front of her friends like this. "Why?" I regretted asking that the moment it came out of my mouth—I knew I said the wrong thing, but I couldn't take it back.

"Because she knows you like her," Annabeth interjected. She had stormy gray eyes that looked like she was always calculating something. Along with Jason, she was the smartest in the junior class. "What do you mean why? She's being nice enough to ask you out."

I was baffled at that. _Duh Leo,_ I thought. I'm such an idiot. I hate talking to people because I feel I'll say the wrong thing—like I did with Calypso, and in front of the main cheerleaders nonetheless. "I-I…" I stuttered, my voice trailing off. Calypso raised both of her eyebrows, waiting for me to say something.

When I didn't say anything, Annabeth cut in again. She spat, "How _rude_. First she offers to go on a date with you and you ask why, now you can't even say yes or no." Annabeth scowled. After a pause, I still hadn't said anything. I was just too much in shock. "Well?" Annabeth inquired.

Calypso had sort of an amused look on her face. She hadn't said anything since Annabeth spoke, but she definitely looked entertained. Now it was Piper's turn to speak, the girl who was famous at Yancy for her star-quality acrobatics: "I told you he was an idiot. He can't even tell the girl he likes 'yes' or 'no.'" Piper scoffed. "What a loser."

"Calypso," Annabeth said, "Let's leave. He _obviously_ doesn't want to date you." My lips slightly parted in shock as the world came crashing down before me. It felt like someone took a remote and pressed "mute" on me because I couldn't speak. I just watched as the girls continued forward with their walk off the campus, Annabeth saying, "I knew he was lame. I told you, Calypso—and you wanted to give him a _chance_. Please, you're too nice." Calypso didn't even turn around for a final glance as they left.

I didn't want to cry, I just wanted to be alone. That… That _hurt_. The fact that Calypso didn't even protest made me feel even worse. I felt any sliver of hope I had for being with Calypso fade away the further she walked, as if she were a magnet that carried all the hope I once possessed.

Fortunately, I had my work to throw myself into. Another day in the grind, I suppose. Maybe I could heed Mr. Hermes' words and finally give work my all. Just one more year and a half, and all this will be gone. I'll be at college, assuming they accept me, and I can forget all about high school. I just have to make it through it. I just had to suck it up. Back to my eight-hour shift, I guess.

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><p><strong>AN:** This will be one of the lighter chapters, and things will get more serious later on. I hope people enjoyed the story and that people will actively try to prevent bullying. It's a real thing, and it hurts. Something as simple as calling someone "lame" or a "loser" or "stupid" could have a profound impact on someone. You never know just how big something small to you might be to them. Don't let something like Leo happen—if you just reach out to people, you might get to know what position they're in.

Give people a chance.


End file.
